


Scavenger Hunt

by Greysgate



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Magic Made Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:30:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greysgate/pseuds/Greysgate
Summary: A mysterious package is received at the agency, with disastrously humorous consequences.





	Scavenger Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> Written under the name Victoria Rivers in May 2000

The label on the box proclaimed its origin clearly enough – Rupert Giles. But it was addressed to Wesley, via Angel Investigations. Didn’t Giles have Wesley’s home address? 

Cordelia was curious. She paced around her desk, staring at the box, hoping for the tiniest little inkling of what might be inside it. There weren’t any air holes, so it wasn’t alive – which was a good thing – but it might not be particularly pleasant, either. Only why would he be sending something to Wesley? Usually the old books and stuff they found stayed in their moldy old libraries. They didn't share. 

She heaved a sigh of relief when Wesley finally arrived at the office. 

“Well, it’s about time! Did you sleep in? Alarm not go off? Hmmmm?” 

He was carrying a stack of thick, dusty books. He’d been shopping again on his way in. 

Cordelia called his attention to the box immediately. He set his stack of books on one of the small tables in the common room and wandered over just about the time Angel came in. 

As usual, the vampire didn’t say anything to anyone, just glanced at them to see that they were all in one piece, not panicked, and standing in front of a box. 

“Is it your birthday?” Cordy guessed. 

Wesley frowned. “Last week. But Giles wouldn’t know that. At least, I don’t think he would.” 

Cordelia grinned. “Well, then we have some celebrating to do. Open it.” She handed him a pair of scissors on her desk to help him do just that. 

Angel wandered away from the activity into the stillness of his office. 

Inside the cardboard shipping box, packed in biodegradable foam pieces, was another box, this one wrapped in shiny aluminum foil. On top of it was an envelope addressed to Wesley. The Englishman took it and sat down to read. 

Cordelia stamped her foot. “No! Open the box now, and read the card later,” she insisted. 

Wesley ignored her. He sat down beside his stack of books, opened the letter and began to read it aloud. 

_“Dear Wesley,  
I’m sending this item to you because we have no need of it here in Sunnydale. I’m sure you’ll be able to find an appropriate storage place for it where it will be safe, should a proper use for it be found later.”_  

“So it’s _not_ a birthday present,” Cordelia pouted. She lifted the wrapped box out of the packing peanuts and set it on the desk, then moved the empty box to the floor beside her. “Want me to open it?”

Wesley continued _. “This sculpture once belonged to the Sultana of Adjoub in the 16 th Century. She was the most successful woman in the harem and wielded great power.”_ 

“I’m opening it,” Cordelia announced. Delicately she parted the tape seal over the foil, which tore, inviting her to rip off the rest. Inside was another cardboard box, taped shut. She popped it open and peered inside.

“How I came to be in possession of this interesting artifact is a long story, which I won't go into here. However, this object has caused us no end of problems in Sunnydale, and considering the youthful population with whom I deal on a regular basis, I thought it best to get rid of it quickly.” 

Wesley glanced up to see Cordelia setting a beautiful green and white stone sculpture on the desk. Her face was glowing with awe. For a moment he appreciated the view, after a brief glimpse at the sculpture. It was a free-form shape that hinted at something sensual, possibly sexual, though there were no recognizable body parts revealed in the design. It was beautiful, though. 

He turned back to the letter _. “Please do not open the box.”_ Frowning at Cordelia again, he gave an impatient sigh. “Now, you see why I didn’t open it right away? Put it back and wrap it up again, Cordelia, before something awful happens.” 

Angel sauntered over, touched her lightly on the shoulder and reached past her for a small stack of business cards lying on her desk. “’Scuse me,” he offered politely. 

Cordy sighed and closed her eyes, leaning backward against him. “Sure thing, Angel,” she breathed huskily. 

The vampire straightened. “Nice sculpture. Birthday present, Wes?” 

“Giles sent me something to store, and Cordelia opened it before I could finish reading the cautionary information,” he explained sourly, and returned to the letter _. “Apparently, this sculpture stimulates the sexual appetite of whomever touches it.”_ Wesley all but dropped the letter, his frustration levels soaring. “Now, isn’t that just dandy! Put it back this instant, Cordelia.” He glanced up at the young woman. Shock registered instantly as he stared at her. “Um, Cordelia?” 

The woman’s hands reached behind her to stroke over Angel’s hips and thighs provocatively. She rubbed her backside against him, and moaned softly. “Oh, Angel, baby,” she sighed. 

“Uh, Wesley…” Angel tried to back away. 

Cordelia turned to face him, hunger and intent glittering in her eyes. 

“Oh, dear,” Wesley mumbled, and hurriedly scanned the document for more information. “It says that whoever touches the artifact will be under a spell of extreme arousal until ultimate satisfaction is reached. Whomever touches the person first after making contact with the statue is the only one who can satisfy the victim of the spell. Oh, dear.” 

Panic flared in Angel’s dark eyes as he regarded Cordelia. She was stalking him now, a dangerous smile on her face. “So how do we break the spell? Tell me that’s in there, Wes.” He backed up. 

Into a corner. Cordelia followed him, and draped herself against his chest. She purred and lightly scratched the back of his neck.

Wesley’s eyes scanned furiously over the page, in search of an answer. “Thank goodness, yes! A potion must be created, then painted on the skin of the one under the spell. Here’s a list of ingredients, and the symbols in the pattern they are to be inscribed.”

“Go shopping, Wesley.” 

The Englishman glanced up as Cordelia smothered the last of Angel’s directive with a kiss.

Angel broke away briefly. “Hurry!”  
  
“I’m on my way. Just don’t let her out of your sight.”  
  
“I’d rather lock her in the bathroom,” Angel argued between kisses. 

“Trust me. You don’t want to do that,” Wesley warned. “Just hold her off as best you can and I’ll be back before you know it. And keep your cell phone handy.” Paper in hand, he charged out the door on his mission, leaving Angel alone in the office with a very friendly Cordelia Chase. 

“Olive oil and mustard powder,” Wesley repeated to himself as he leaped into the car. “That’ll be at the grocer’s.” As he drove he glanced over the rest of the list, trying to arrange in his mind the most efficient way to gather everything in the shortest amount of time. “But where the hell am I going to find lampblack and camel’s hair?” 

Just as he was pulling into the parking lot at the supermarket, his cell phone rang. He answered it, already sure who would be on the other end. 

“Wesley, how much longer? Her jacket’s on the floor and I’m not sure what’s going to come off next.” 

There was definite panic in Angel’s voice. 

“Take her to your apartment, then,” Wesley suggested. “We can’t have her disrobing in public. Just do the best you can to keep her dressed. She’ll remember everything she did later with perfect clarity.” 

Angel’s voice moaned briefly in his ear. “She’s sucking my neck. I don’t know how it is with you with women do that, but for a vampire it’s incredibly… mmmmm... Hurry, please.”

The Englisman parked the car and ran into the store, skidding to a stop in the doorway to get his bearings. “I’m doing the best I can, Angel. Just hold on.”

He rang off and raced down the baking goods aisle. The oil was easy. He had to ask for help with the mustard powder. And then there was the checkout line.

Ten minutes later he was back in the car, heading for a small Italian restaurant not far away. The place was perpetually dim because the only lighting they used during meals was a single small oil lamp set on each table. The lamps had glass chimneys, and the chimneys were grimed with soot. It was just after the restaurant opened to prepare for the lunch crowd, so he had no trouble getting in. Collecting the lampblack was another matter, but after the passing of a sufficient bribe to the headwaiter, he managed to complete his task in short order.

 “Camel hair. Camel hair… and what else? Goat’s milk and honey. Damn, I could’ve gotten that at the market!” Wesley spotted an organic food warehouse and wheeled in there.

The phone rang again.

 “Wesley, how much long — Cordelia, stop it! You are not taking off my shirt!”

 “Angel?”

 Heavy sigh in his ear. “She took off my shirt. Are you done yet?”

 Before he could answer, a high-pitched giggle that morphed into a husky groan came through the earpiece. “That’s my nip—Stop it, Cordelia! Ohhhhh…”

 Heavy breathing. 

“Angel?”

 A loud clack echoed in his ear, followed by Angel’s voice, distant now, merged with soft feminine coos and masculine groans. “I dropped the phone, Wes. Hang on.” 

More crashes. The sound of glass breaking. The thud of a body hitting something solid, and then the screech of wooden legs across a hard floor. 

“Cordelia, don’t do that! You’ll regret it tomorrow, I swear.”

Then closer, after Angel retrieved the phone, “Wes, I’m on the kitchen table and we have no shirts. What's taking so long?”

For a moment, Wesley’s brain couldn’t function. The image dancing in his brain of Angel sprawled out on the table with Cordelia about to dine was absolutely stunning. Of course, the woman couldn’t be blamed for her actions. She wasn’t responsible. It was the spell.

Which he had to break, before she went too far. He was certain Angel was making a valiant effort to keep her in hand and fend her off, but it seemed to be a losing battle. And Cordelia was beautiful… 

Goat’s milk and honey filled another sack in the front seat beside him, as he sat behind the wheel, thinking. “Camel’s hair. Where am I going to find a camel in Los Angeles? The zoo is an hour’s drive from here, and I don’t think we have that much time before Cordelia compromises her virtue.”

He dialed Angel’s cell phone to inform him of that problem, and how long it was going to take for him to fetch that item on the list.

“Yeah,” said Angel. “That’s – No, don’t – Cordeliaaaahhhhh…”

“Angel! What’s happening?” Wesley demanded. “No, wait, I don’t want to know. I’m headed for the zoo for some camel’s hair. It’s going to be a couple of hours before I get back. Can you hold her off?” He was wondering if it was too late already.

Panting. His groaning followed by her giggling.

This was not going well. The vampire could fend off the legions of Hell without batting an eye, but against one lovely young woman, he was totally helpless. Wesley tried again.

“Angel, can you hear me?”

“Oh, _yeah…”_ Sounds of scuffling, more crashing and Cordelia’s laughter. “That is not funny! Stop it, Cordy.” Then panting to Wesley, “Art supply stores. Hardware stores. Camel hair brushes. Just make sure they’re from real camels and not synthetic.”

 Scuffling again, and then Angel’s voice from far away. 

“Wesley, she threw the phone on the bed. I’m going after it.”

“No, don’t!” He cried, but Angel couldn’t hear him. He hung up, and gave a weary sigh. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. “If only she would listen before she leaps.”

There was an art supply store down the street. After making his purchase, he glanced at the list again. The last few items could be had at the Apothecary’s Shoppe where he usually bought his herbs and sundries for spells. It wasn’t that far away, but would take him even farther from the office.

Anything could happen in the half hour it would take him to get back there.

He hit the gas and burned rubber, trying to shave off as many minutes as possible.

His phone rang again as he was waiting for the shopkeeper to fill his order.

“Wesley! Help!”

Cordelia’s laughter was devious now, saucy. It got a response from the Englishman as he listened reluctantly to the background noises. “I’m trying, Angel. Almost done, I promise.”

“Those are _my_ pants!” Angel screeched. “Leave them alone!”

Wesley put the phone down, letting his arm hang limply at his side. “Oh, dear.” The room was spinning and he felt light headed. Reluctantly he brought the receiver back up to his ear. His voice was calm, resigned. “I should be there inside half an hour, Angel. Hold on.”

“Wes, I think… you better hurry. We’re down to our skivvies here.”

All the color drained out of the Englishman’s already pale face. He turned off the phone and put it in his pocket, unwilling to hear more. He would either get there in time, or not. Either way, what would be, would be.

He sighed and waited patiently to pay for his purchases, scooped them up and hurried out to the car. He drove as fast as he could and jogged into the office. After emptying his bags on the nearest table, he began to mix all the ingredients together into a black-brown fluid the consistency of syrup, and then turned the page.

“Oh, God,” he breathed, and hung his head in defeat.

The last ingredient on the list was a feather. The paint was to be applied to the skin of the victim with a feather.

With a sigh, he took an extra brush, the bowl of paint and himself downstairs to the basement apartment. He knocked, even though the door stood partly open and the sounds of sighs and moans issued from the other side. He braced himself for the sight of Angel’s defeat.

The vampire lay sprawled on top of Cordelia on his bed, pinning her down to the mattress. Angel was dressed in black silk boxers and black socks, while Cordelia sported a leopard print thong and nothing else. Fortunately, Angel’s arm across her chest afforded her a little modesty, but she didn’t seem to mind her state of undress at all, nor the fact that they now had an audience.

Angel glanced over his shoulder, and heaved an enormous sigh of relief. “Wesley, thank you! Hurry! Come on!” He flinched and moaned as Cordelia’s hands stroked over his body, her lips busy on his neck.

Wesley just stood there, bowl and brush in his hands. “I’m sorry, Angel. I didn’t get everything. I couldn’t—“

The woman chuckled, moaned softly and whispered in a teasing sing-song, “I know Angel’s ticklish spot.”

She raised the hand on the far side of Angel’s body. Delicately holding a large white feather, she traced it down the middle of his back, over his side and somewhere underneath.

Angel let out an unbridled moan of pleasure, clenched his teeth and wailed, “Save me! Somebody…”

Wesley’s mouth hung open. He didn’t know where that feather had come from or why Angel had one in his bedroom. He raced to the bed after his jaw snapped shut, snatched the feather out of her grasp and dipped the soft end into the ink. Taking a seat on the bed beside the couple as they wrestled together, he began to trace the marks onto her skin, wherever he could reach it beneath Angel’s big body. 

Just as he finished the last symbol, Cordelia grabbed Angel by the hair and brought him down to her mouth for a desperate, starving kiss. 

And for moments afterward, the vampire reciprocated, his eyes closed, his fingers clenching the bedcovers beneath them. 

He raised his head at last. 

“Is it done?” he whispered, sounding almost breathless. He didn’t look at Wesley. He was staring at Cordelia instead. 

Wesley stood up, carried the bowl, feather and brush to the kitchen table, stepping over the debris that had been swept off it earlier. “Has been for some time, Angel.” He kept his back to them. 

“Oh. Thanks.” 

Cordelia lay quietly beneath him, her eyes on his face. “Comfy?” 

“Uh… you’re naked. I can’t get up.” 

“Angel, you’ve seen me _almost_ naked for the last half hour, and Wesley’s got his back turned like the gentleman he is. Plus, I still have my panties on -- not that that made _any_ difference when you did that…" She beamed. "I didn't know that was possible!" Her amazement vanished suddenly in the wake of confusion. "That thing -- with your... Uh…" She glanced at Wesley's back, her cheeks flushing red under her makeup. "So you can get off me now.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t move for another minute or two. And closed his eyes before he lifted himself off her. “Let me know when you’re dressed.”

She scooped up her clothing and went into the bathroom, pausing just inside the door to call out through the crack, “Hey, Wesley, how long do I have to leave this stuff on?”

The Englishman pulled the folded letter out of his trouser pocket and glanced at the remaining notes on the back of the sheet of paper, and began to read aloud. 

“The effects of the spell are nullified instantly upon inscription of the final symbol, and the victim will not be affected again until additional contact is made with the statue. It doesn’t work on vampires or demons, so Angel should be able to handle it safely.”

He fell silent for a moment.

“Okay, thanks.” Cordelia started to shut the door.

Wesley read on _. “And if Cordelia should open this Pandora’s box despite my warnings, we have sent the necessary items for reversing the spell in a small box beneath the silver package. Please be careful, and make sure it stays wrapped in aluminum foil to counter this dangerous energy. All my best, Rupert Giles.”_

The Englishman gathered up his things and left the apartment without looking back.

Angel rose and started looking for his clothes.

Cordelia shut the door and smiled.

Her lips formed a silent "WOW" and she hugged herself, remembering. Wesley hadn't needed to write that stuff on her. Angel had given her satisfaction enough not only to keep her at bay, but also to break the spell just before Wesley had come into the room. Though they hadn't _actually_ consummated anything, she couldn't help wondering what other fascinating knowledge the old demon might have up his sleeve, and chuckled as she decided she just might have to find that out one day.

 When it was safe to take things further. 

FIN


End file.
